St Francis
by almost-never
Summary: [AU: CraigEllie] "It's supposed to be you and Sean; Ash and me. That's the way it has to be. And yesterday, when we - you know - we broke the rules." He wanted to erase everything; she wanted him. A tangle of love and contradictions.


**Disclaimer:** I own neither _Degrassi_ nor Sarah Slean's St. Francis.

**A/N:** This is an Alternate Universe only because Sean hasn't gone off to Wasaga Beach here and the fact that I don't think Craig and Ellie will become a couple – ever (though it hurts a bit to say so). Minor **Voices Carry Part 2** and **Secrets Part 1** spoilers. Oh, and to the reviewers of my previous one-shots: I never actually thanked you guys properly, so thanks so much for all the feedback! Much appreciated. _01/13/05 - story editted for grammar_

**St. Francis**

It was a Saturday in November, the sky white-grey and cloudy and the trees bare.

She was sitting on an old wooden picnic bench and strumming on her old acoustic guitar and murmuring a few lyrics when he arrived.

_"Just like St. Francis the little birds come; lonely for a little warmth_. _You give them your music, but they just want a song – oh, no, I'll never learn..."_

The ground was sticky with the moisture from stomped-on leaves. He plopped down next to her, rattling the bench and startling her out of her dreamy reverie. Her flaming red hair was shaking. He wanted to run his hands in them. And then he felt ashamed for thinking about it.

_Not her. It can never be her_.

"Hey." He gave her a broad smile, trying to feign easygoingness.

She glanced up briefly and the first thing she saw was an old camera hanging on a thick cord from his neck. The shine of it, combined with the spread-out sunlight filtered from the sun above the clouds hurt her eyes and she looked away. Or maybe it was him that made her totally void of the ability to look at him. She was afraid that if she looked at him too long, her heart would leap into her throat, therefore choking her to death.

An inaudible _pitpitpitpitpit_ went his heart.

The inaudible _pitpitpitpitpit_ of hers synchronized his.

Of course they didn't know this. All they felt was awkward and uncomfortable. And nervous – really nervous.

"That's...that was a nice song."

She ceased her playing and gently laid the guitar in its case, rested on the table of the splintery bench. She tried to speak but all that came out was a hoarse croak. Pulling her knees (clad in combat boots) to her chest, she cleared her throat.

_Breathe, Nash...just breathe_.

"It's just some singer that Marco happens to be obsessed with. It's like drunken cabaret, he says."

"Uh, okay," he said. "Well, thanks for meeting me here."

"I still don't know what I'm doing here," she said quietly. "It shouldn't be a big deal. It's not as if we slept together or anything."

He raised his eyes so he was looking at the spindly brown arms of the empty trees, scratching into the sky above him. The thought of her sitting next to him, just him and her, scared the hell out of him. Yesterday changed him. "No, we didn't. But you don't understand."

She gave him a reproachful look her lips chapped and puckered and small. "I could if you'd tell me what I don't get."

Sighing, he felt his hands lift so they were fiddling with the lens cap of his camera. "It's just...it's...it's complicated, I guess. I mean you and me – it doesn't make any sense. That's all."

"Why not?"

"It's supposed to be you and Sean; Ash and me. That's the way it has to be. And yesterday, when we – you know – we broke the rules."

_"We broke the rules,"_ she mimicked with a sudden burst of bitterness. "We – we kissed, Craig. The world isn't going to explode, okay? We kissed and it meant something...to me, anyway."

"I still don't know what we're doing here," she added as an afterthought.

"Look, we can't tell anyone. Yesterday never happened, alright? It was just a misunderstanding and it meant...it didn't mean anything because it never happened."

Her throat tightened the way it did whenever she wanted to cry but she forced the saltwater back. Blinking once, she stared at him through her eyeliner-circled eyes. He flinched from her gaze. "You told me you loved me. You said – you said it to me after one fucking kiss but you took months to tell Ashley for the first time and that was only in a song. It can't mean nothing."

A gust of wind blasted by and she hugged herself closer. He instinctively reached out to put an arm around her shoulder, but she recoiled, shuffling away from him, her layered skirt scraping against the wood.

"Don't touch me. Please don't. I might cry if you do."

He moved his hand away from her and fiddled with his camera some more. "It's not like I'm trying to hurt you on purpose," he mumbled, cold from wearing only a black T-shirt. That and how she was leaning away from him like he was plague. Or a dirty cheater. Or someone who said _Iloveyou_ and took it back the next day.

"I already cheated on Ash years ago with Manny. And Sean's my friend. I can't kiss his girlfriend and pretend everything's all dandy and crap."

"You're selfish," she said coldly.

His eyebrows disappeared into his mop of curly hair. "Selfish. Me," he gave a short laugh and plunged on. "It's the right thing to do. Ash wanted to die last time I did it. And that was with Manny; some girl she didn't care about. She'd probably fucking kill herself if she finds out about us. And Sean – you're still living with him, arentcha? He'd throw you out. Make you live with your mother. We'd all hate each other for something that could be erased so easily." He shrugged, hitching an emotionless expression onto his features, trying to convince himself that this wasn't just about him. "I'm just looking out for everyone else."

Her eyes filled with tears and this time, she let them fall, stinging and beady on her peeling cheeks. "You're not."

Watching her cry was excruciating torture. It felt like his heart had infested with something gross; something repulsive – like the way she was probably thinking of him now.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. It just – it wouldn't be...it just wouldn't be. It upsets the balance of things, the way they are now. Like status quo."

She ignored this, still weeping quietly, and asked, "Do you love her?"

"Ash? Of course."

He said this immediately, with no thought at all, and she was surprised. They sat in silence, her still feeling like she was going to retch any minute from all that contained crying and him doing whatever he was doing right now...she wasn't sure; she couldn't look at him at the moment. Not when she seemed so weak – so unlike herself – and she didn't know why she was still blurry eyed and feeling pained.

Looking at her knees, she forced herself to ask another question. "What about me? Were you telling the truth yesterday?"

A silence rang in their ears as he brought himself to answer, to push the slimy words out with his tongue. "I might have for a second yesterday when I walked you home...when I kissed you. Today – I'm not so sure...I don't think it's the right time to love you or if it ever will be."

He wondered whether or not he was lying. He thought he might be, because his heart was still racing, clanging dully in his ears.

Her brows furrowed, and her crying stopped with an abrupt halt. She was surprised at his mundane words. She thought he of all people would understand more than he did about love and suddenly her building feelings for him that had developed in the last few weeks began to wane. "Time? You can't choose to love someone; you either do or you don't. Love doesn't work that way. I would have thought someone like you would have known this."

His brows furrowed, too, and he looked at her. His chest was screaming at him and he desperately tried to ignore – tried to put the spotlight on her – "Sean. What about him? You can't love him and want to be with me."

"I can. And I do want to be with you...I did. You – you're a lot different than I thought, Craig. Maybe I loved you because you were something totally fabricated by me in my twisted mind. Or something. I don't think I know anymore."

She fell silent and thought about it, careful not to look at him. _We're both crazy; dreamers – we go to the same support group...he's bipolar and he plays guitar in a band and has dead parents and lives with Joey Jeremiah and his half-sister...he got Manny pregnant – he makes Ashley laugh..._

There was nothing after that. Her breathing steadied a bit and she gave an imperceptible nod to herself in understanding and resignation and semi-epiphany.

"Maybe we can pretend nothing happened, Craig, but we won't forget."

She stood up, eyes all red and makeup smudgy from swiping at her eyes and nose runny and mouth turned in a comtemplative frown. She had never been a delicate crier. "Are we done here?"

He opened his mouth, and for a second, he wanted to yell – _No. We're not; we could make this work. We could be together and I could kiss you again but this time longer with no fear and no one would have to run away and you'd want me again because I'd understand love a bit better than I do and understand you._ – but the words died somewhere in his throat as it was making its way up from his pit like puke.

But it didn't matter. Because she didn't love him – not anymore. And he felt so stupid; so foolish for being the one pushing her away when he was the one who wanted her so badly.

_So badly_.

He didn't want her to go. "We'll still be friends, though, right?"

"Still friends? When were we ever friends?" She laughed a bit - short and suddenlike a gunshot - but the sound died quickly. "We know the same people – friends, though. Kind of funny if you think about it. Considering each other friends just because we hang out with the same group of people. What do you know about me? What do I know about you?"

Her words were like a punch in the gut – because they hurt; because she was right. "Fine. Can we be friends, then? I want us to. I really want – I want us to."

_Selfish_. What she had said earlier came back to him and he knew it was true. What he wanted – who he loved – it was always about him. No wonder her feelings fell through the earth and died.

But she gave him a thin smile. "Sure."

Leaning over, she took her guitar and then kissed him lightly on the cheek – _icy cold, her lips were_ – and he lost his breath, his skin on fire where her mouth touched and suddenly, maybe, just maybe...he understood love a little better now because he knew that what he just felt was love. He dared himself to steal a glance at her. She was looking absolutely normal...a little puffy-eyed but normal. For her, anyway.

She didn't feel it – the flames, the racing heart, the breathlessness.

She loved him no more.

He heard her light footsteps crunching through the autumn-y litter of crackly leaves and his heart broke a little.

_You love Ash, remember?_ He reminded himself. Deep breaths were taken. And as she walked away, his shaking hands raised his dear camera to his eye and snapped. Waiting impatiently, he urged the Polaroid to clear more quickly and when it did, there was a captured her – black leather jacket, black mesh skirt, and clunky boots all contrasting with the sharp orange of her hair, walking along the red-yellow-brown of the ground but frozen in the photograph. He couldn't see her face.

A few quavering notes sounded from her mouth as she sang a few more lines from St. Francis and she felt tired so she stopped mid-note.

_"...I started to say – but then I stopped. I wasn't so brave...I wasn't so -"_

He heard her and wondered why _she_ was the one singing a song about _his_ thoughts at the moment. This suddenly all felt so contradictory and complex – like Cat's Cradle; that annoying game with the tied piece of string and the geometrical patterns. He was never good at that. And he wondered what kind of person he was – kissing his girlfriend's best friend and trying to get her to fall out of love with him while falling in love with her. Kind and funny, he knew he was. Selfish and temperamental, too. And sometimes very out of control without his medication. But...

He wished to be brave.

**The End**

That was a weird fic – it began as something and totally went into something else (the finished product). Reviews are very welcome...hope you enjoyed this!


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